


Toss a Coin to Your Bard

by HereForGeraskier



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff, Gay Male Character, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Apologizes, Geraskier, Geraskier Week, Happy Ending, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:29:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22763245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HereForGeraskier/pseuds/HereForGeraskier
Summary: It has been over a year since Jaskier left Geralt's side and he's been decently okay, all things considered- he is still alive after all. That is until a familiar face shows up and turns everything upside down.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, geraskier - Relationship
Comments: 4
Kudos: 287





	Toss a Coin to Your Bard

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this because I was especially upset with episode six. Essentially this is supposed to fix the heartbreak that occured in that episode and the only reason it diverges from canon is the lack of inclusion of Cirilla. I may also continue upon this story but for now this is all there is.

Jaskier stared up at the ceiling of his room at the inn he was currently lodging at. With how often he wandered aimlessly from place to place and how much wine he drowned his liver with on the daily, he had a hard time placing where he actually was those days. Though what did it matter anyways? In his eyes it was all just background scenery in the tragedy that was his life, after all.

Sensing himself going to that dark place he avoided at all costs, he desperately shook that thought away. He did not want to go to down that road again, especially since it was that place that he drank to forget to begin with.

Not that it ever really worked.

It had been over a year since that day and yet he still couldn’t move pass it. Though it could not be said that he didn’t try. He had returned to his old way of life, singing in every inn along his way and indulging himself in as many sordid affairs as he could manage. Hell, he even avoided singing every song that he had written during that time; anything about The White Wolf was off limits. Sure, it meant that he didn’t make nearly as much coin—those tales were his claim to fame after all— but he was far better off not torturing himself in that way.

However, despite his efforts to avoid everything that happened, he still often found himself thinking of Geralt. Especially when drunk. It seemed that not even alcohol could wipe the Witcher from his mind.

Though it did allow him to fall asleep with ease. For before he started drinking himself into a stupor on the daily, he would wake up every night in a cold sweat. Haunted less so by dreams and more so by memories, Jaskier spent his nights being forced to relive that fight with Geralt. So, rather than spend the rest of his days hearing the Witcher say it would be a blessing for him to leave his life, the bard took to drinking himself to death. For passing out into an alcohol induced slumber was far better than having to live that day over and over again.

* * *

The sun streamed through the window of Jaskier’s room at the inn, falling softly upon his face in ribbons of light. If there had been anyone to witness such a thing they would surely have thought it made his features look even more angelic than they already did, for it brought out copper highlights in his hair and lit up those beautiful baby blues of his.

However, to Jaskier it was just simply annoying. While his body seemed to have adjusted to the alcohol abuse over the past several months, his eyes were still very much sensitive to the harsh morning light. “Fuck” he grumbled to himself as he covered his face with his arms, trying his best to block out the sun. Sober and awake was a miserable way to be.

And yet he would have to be for the next few hours at least, lest he wanted to be kicked out of the inn for lack of coin.

However, since he hated being sober these days, Jaskier made it his mission to make as much money as he could in as little time as possible. This competition of his made his boring life interesting at least, especially since his most popular material was off limits these days. While this was quite restrictive, it had forced him to be the best bard that he could be. It was the flower that grew from concrete— the beauty that rose above its obstacles. For as shitty as life was, it had made him one of the best.

As the morning drew on, Jaskier mentally bragged to himself about his talents. He really was quite proud of how well he was doing all things considered. Sure, he drank away his misery every single day, but he was a _fabulous_ bard. Gone were the days of being pelted with food as crowds booed him. Now their eyes followed him hungrily as he floated across the room, every single one of the inn’s patrons memorized with the honeyed words that rolled off his tongue. He was _magnificent_ and they all knew it, especially Jaskier himself.

In that moment in felt like nothing could break him down. He was on cloud nine, reveling in all his glory.

That was until he noticed a familiar head of silver hair.

It took all Jaskier’s strength to finish his current song before leaving the room in a hurry. Lute in hand, the bard ran up to his room to collect his things before Geralt could corner him into conversation—or worse, not even acknowledge him.

Feeling his chest tighten, he knew he had to leave town as soon as possible. The idea of being this close to the man who broke his heart was too much. He needed to get out of this place before he broke down. For unlike his sanity and piece of mind, inns were an easy thing to come by.

After throwing the few things he had together, he dashed out the room. While he made his way downstairs, Jaskier contemplated if he should even tell the innkeeper he was leaving. He settled on the fact that it wasn’t worth the time it would take as he rushed out of the building. He had managed not to see Geralt again as he left the inn and he did not want to take that for granted. After all, Geralt had Roach while Jaskier just had his own two feet.

Then again, he wasn’t even sure Geralt would care enough to bother following him. Beginning to feel ridiculous for his extreme flight instinct, Jaskier slowed his pace down considerably. Why was he running? Geralt had not bothered him for over a year so it was surely just a horrible coincidence—

“Jaskier,” A familiar voice huffed, tearing him from his thoughts, “Stop fucking running.” At the sound of Gerald’s voice Jaskier’s chest tightened once more, though this time his heart was beating rapidly against his rib cage all the while. It felt like he was dying in the way drinking himself to death never had. He didn’t want to have this conversation, not now, not ever.

So he ran like the idiot he was. Tears streamed down his face as he sprinted away from Geralt, trying his hardest to literally run away from his problems.

Which lasted a good minute—maybe minute and a half—before Geralt had caught up with him and locked his arms around Jaskier in a rear bear hug, forcing the bard to stay where he was. Tears started flowing down his face more rapidly as he begged him to let go, “Leave me alone,” he sobbed.

“No,” Geralt huffed, refusing to release his hold on Jaskier until he calmed down, “I came here to talk to you like an adult, but if you insist on acting like a child, I’m going to treat you like one.”

Once he sensed that Jaskier had calmed down considerably, Geralt’s embrace softened, allowing the bard to break loose. Now that the initial panic had subsided, he did not try to run away again this time. Instead he fixed the Witcher with a glare, his words coming out like venom when he finally spoke. “Oh, you want to be an adult now. Over a year later after your little tantrum. How precious. You are really something, you know that? Just do me a favor and fuck off— I’m better off without you.”

Geralt stared blankly at the bard, hoping to the Gods that he appeared just as emotionless as everyone thought him to be, because damn did that hurt. “Hm.” He huffed, now returning Jaskier’s glare, “Is that so? Because from what I hear you drink yourself into a stupor every day.”

Jaskier stared up towards the sky, no longer being able to handle the heat of those amber eyes. The sheer amount of rage they contained was ridiculous considering Geralt had not said a single thing to him in ages. After letting out a deep sigh he found the courage to stare him down once more. Though this time it was much weaker, the argument taking its emotional toll on the bard. “You don’t get to ignore me for over a year and then just show up and yell at me for dealing with it the best I can. You broke my heart. I’ve been in love countless times and no one has hurt me like you did.” As he spoke, tears silently trickled down Jaskier’s face once more. “Do you want to know why I drink so much? I drink because if I stay sober, I dream of you telling me you’d be blessed if I left and I’d rather pass out and dream of nothing every night than have to keep reliving that day. So yes, I think I am better off without you.”

With two large strides Geralt closed the gap between them and wiped away the tears that continued to fall from Jaskier’s eyes. He had no idea what compelled him to do so, but he did so regardless. It came naturally like breathing. As for Jaskier, he was so caught off guard that he just allowed it to happen. The whole situation had made him go numb so he no longer protested.

“I was wrong.” Geralt said as he searched Jaskier’s eyes for something more. A puzzled look crosses his face, telling Geralt to continue. “Losing you was a curse, not a blessing.”

The fact was that Geralt was not good with his emotions, as is true for all Witchers. However, in his case, when he let down his guard it was always for a woman. Deep down he had a feeling it had to do with his mother’s abandonment and his long-standing desire to replace her. Looking back on his past, one couldn’t help but see how he was always so quick to accept female companions over male. He had known Renfri for mere days and would end up dreaming of her for years. With Yennefer he had spent several moments with her, but compared to his time with Jaskier, he barely knew her. However, for both of these girls he had bared his heart more to them than he ever had to Jaskier. Despite what he would admit to, he was so desperate to be loved and so he let them in so eagerly.

Naturally these relationships always failed due to the desperate nature of their origin. However, despite being completely expected, it still frustrated him to no end. He was so set on making it work that he didn’t realize he already had a companion with which he did not need to force things. Years of wandering the countryside with Jaskier had caused the two to grow close in a way he never had with even Yennefer. He was too blindsided by his “plan” to even realize it would never have worked.

In his frustrations he ruined the one thing that came without force— his relationship with Jaskier. From there his ego got in the way, allowing him to believe he was in the right during their fight. Once he was no longer able to keep lying to himself about that he then started convincing himself that the bard would just come back one day as he always did. So, for months he genuinely he did not need to do anything to win back his friend. It was not until he returned to Yennefer—trying once more to convince her to give him another chance—that he found out about Jaskier’s current situation.

_I’m not the one you should be begging for forgiveness from._

Her words rang in his head as clear as day and, as he stared into Jaskier’s eyes while tendering wiping away tears, Geralt knew that she was right. He had been so desperate to replace his mother's love with any woman he could get that he didn’t even realize he had pushed away the one he loved the most. “I love you.” He confessed, his lips betraying him before his mind could even register what he was saying.

His pale skin flushed as he watched Jaskier attempt to process everything. He smelled of so many emotions it was hard to discern how he truly felt. Fear, anger, hope, shock, and happiness all melted together. Normally his scent was that of wildflowers and berries, with his happiness mingling with both scents. To the Witcher happiness smelled like the warmth of sunshine, a pleasant addition to Jaskier’s already lovely natural scent. But today all the other emotions ruined it, like the bitterness of burnt coffee. It was overall the oddest scent and Geralt did not know what to do other than wait for the bard to confess how he really felt.

“You can’t do this to me!” Jaskier sobbed as he slammed his fists into Geralt’s chest. “You can’t just show up after all this time and make grand proclamations. You make my head hurt.” He slumped into Geralt as soon as the words left his lips, giving into the emotional fatigue. Geralt smiled sadly at that last part, pain casting a shadow over his amber eyes as the corners of his lips just barely turning upwards. Removing his hands from Jaskier’s face, he took him into his arms and held him close to his body. “You need to sleep.” He stated matter of factly, back to his short, to the point way of speaking as he led the bard back to the inn.

They could speak more after he slept, but for now Jaskier needed his rest.

* * *

A dull throbbing pulsed throughout Jaskier’s head and he couldn’t help but wonder how much he had drunk. After months of drinking on the daily, he had stopped getting alcohol induced headaches. His body had seemingly adjusted to the abuse, which only made the pain he was currently feeling all the more confusing. It wasn’t until he turned in the opposite direction to see a head of silver hair on the pillow next to his, that the morning’s events caught up to him.

_“That’s right, it’s because this asshole made me cry,”_ Jaskier thought to himself. He even contemplated taking his pillow and smothering Geralt in that moment, still annoyed over everything that gone down just hours ago. The nerve he had confessing his feelings after all this time. If he thought Jaskier was going to be swayed by that then he was...absolutely right because he was hopeless romantic and couldn’t stay mad even when he wanted to.

Which made Jaskier want to start crying again.

However, the ever-present throbbing in his head dissuaded him from giving into his soft-hearted ways once more.

While Jaskier studied the man before him, trying to decide how he was feeling about him in the current moment, Geralt’s eyelids fluttered open, “Why are you staring at me?” he grumbled, sleep thick in his voice as he tried to shake the disoriented feeling that the nap had left him with.

“I was debating on smothering you in your sleep for being an absolute ass,” Jaskier quipped back, only half joking. Though, as he stared into those amber eyes, he found his resolve dissipating. Curse him for being so damn beautiful that he could leave even a wordsmith breathless.

“Hm,” Geralt grunted, unaware of the effect his newly waken self had on the bard, “I take it you decided not to?” A small smile played on his lips as he spoke and Jaskier melted. He was trying so damn hard to stay mad but when he smiled like that he found it utterly impossible to do so.

“I’m still mad with you.” Jaskier lied, more so trying to convince himself than Geralt. He had been a wreck for the last year so there was nothing he wanted more than to stay mad.

Though Geralt saw straight past the lies, his Witcher senses allowing him to see—or more so smell—things that the bard did not know were dead giveaways. “No you’re not.” Geralt said blankly, knowing he was right. Jaskier no longer smelled of all those complicated emotions anymore—back to just wildflowers, berries, and the warmth of sunshine. It calmed something within him to see Jaskier as he had always been before. So much so that he did not care when a pillow smacked him in the face.

“Damn you for being right,” Jaskier muttered to himself as he removed the pillow and leaned closer until he was mere inches from the Witcher’s face. “I really want to hate you, I hope you know that.”

“I know,” Geralt admitted as he stared into Jaskier’s eyes, letting the warmth inside them envelop him, “Although I’m happy you don’t.” As soon as those words left his lips he reached up for the bard, cupping his face with his hands so that he could pull him even closer. His lips curled into a smirk as he heard Jaskier’s heartbeat quicken at their sudden closeness. His anticipation excited Geralt so much that he closed the small gap that still remained between them, crashing his lips against the bard’s.

Eager for the man he had been in love with for years, Jaskier kissed back hungrily. His hands entangled in Geralt’s silver locks as he captured his bottom lip between his teeth and pulled at it gently before moving his lips back to the Witcher’s. They moved in sync for what felt like a lifetime before Jaskier pulled away to stare into those amber eyes that he loved so much. “Gods I’ve wanted to do that since we met.” He confessed, staring at Geralt with eyes wide and lips swollen, feeling the happiest he had in years.

“Stop talking,” Geralt murmured, a smirk playing on his lips as he pulled Jaskier back in, not wanting the moment to ever end. It had taken decades, but he finally found someone who actually loved him. No forcing things with magic, just someone who actually wanted him in all of his moody glory.

All things considered, Geralt decided that things weren’t too bad after all.


End file.
